Marriage Is Not An Option. Yet.

I met HotNurse at the ward when I brought a patient in whom I had to weigh before I can calculate his appropriate drug dosage. HotNurse was sitting behind the Nurse’s Station along with two other male nurses. The boys struck up a flirtatious conversation with me and I managed to make a simple weighing session – which ordinarily lasts less than a minute – take more than 5 minutes. I was loving the attention and I found one of them particularly cute. Therefore, it didn’t take me much persuasion to hand them my number and I left the ward, feeling all giddy and excited.

All three of the boys actually started texting me but it was HotNurse who struck the most interesting conversations with me. But the thing was, my flirtatious encounter at the ward with him and his friends happened in such a blur that the combination of awkwardness, shyness, dealing with the fears that I am not sounding witty enough, or smart enough or if maybe I’m showing too much teeth or maybe I’m not sucking my stomach in more all resulted to me not having caught them introducing their names. I couldn’t attach their name to the face or the person and this was a problem since I found HotNurse particularly likeable but I wasn’t sure which one he was from the two others.

Major dilemma since I had decided to meet him for drinks after my duty at the hospital.

When he finally texted me that he was parked right outside the ward, I looked outside and saw him, the cute one from the ward. I was relieved but slightly disappointed as well, since I didn’t realize that he was such a big man.

Now, I usually am not into big men and I personally preferred the tall lanky ones, but he was just simply too good-looking that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. We had a drink with a common friend of ours, the husband of one of my closest friends from highschool. I realized that HotNurse was one of the most fantastic conversationalists I have ever met. It didn’t take much for me to secretly fall inlove with him but it was just sadly not meant to be. He had a girlfriend which he was in a serious relationship with, and despite the fact that he also slept with a lot of other women, the thought of breaking up with his girlfriend to be in a serious relationship with me was not something that he would particularly consider.

Because I was not a virgin and I didn’t fit his standards for a trophy girlfriend.

So, instead, he used me. And I let him. Twice. After which he never showed his face to me again.

He still continued texting me, with the excuse that he couldn’t see me because he was reviewing for his NCLEX. When he finally passed, he came back, tempting me with joyrides, kwek-kwek at the Boulevard and a whole lot of drinking sessions. We got drunk and I found myself sleeping with him once again.

Used once again for the third time. And I knew that it finally had to stop.

The thing about sleeping with someone without any strings attached is that we, women, cannot usually separate our emotions from the banality of the act. The act of exchanging sexual fluids somehow magnifies our bond with that person. We cannot make ourselves simply enjoy the act for what it is – a dirty, sensual and orgasmic act – and for us to be able to truly lose ourself in the exhilaration, there always has to develop some sense of emotional attachment with the person we’re sleeping with.

This is why for women, sex is always the best when it’s with someone that you love.

That is the tragedy of a woman who is in a sexual relationship with someone who does not want to commit.

It almost always turns into an unrequited love.